


Five Times John Sheppard Misses a Flight

by Oparu



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy UST five times fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times John Sheppard Misses a Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts from my Sparktober bingo card. Lorne, Supernatural, alien influence, Athosian parties and Inferno. Written for [](http://irony-rocks.livejournal.com/profile)[**irony_rocks**](http://irony-rocks.livejournal.com/) because she didn't get to take her flight. (hopefully this help a little) Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

Settling into his seat, John glances around the plane. Most everyone is already on it: Rodney thumping his seat, Teyla examining her blanket and pillow, most likely thinking how crappy stuff on Earth was compared to the gorgeous pillows and blankets her people have, and Ronon has the game controller in his huge hands. He's already on level eighteen of "Blood Soaked Rampage" and the preteen sitting next to him is wide-mouthed in awe.

Looking around for Elizabeth, he frowns when he doesn't see her. She's meant to be on this flight. Fourteen hours from Denver to Moscow, then a charter military flight up to the Russian base where they're briefing the Russians on the Wraith. Fourteen hours of being on a plane, not flying the plane, which would be wasted entirely if Elizabeth isn't supposed to be in the seat next to him.

His fantasies of the next fourteen hours have ranged from giving Elizabeth his dessert, to her falling asleep on his shoulder. All of them are mundane, domestic and juvenile, but what he feels about her is mundane, domestic and juvenile, so it seems to work. His obsession is immature. The way he likes to sit on her desk and watch her work, and the way Elizabeth smiling at him makes his day.

Sure, it's stupid to think she likes him. Sure, she's his boss and definitely off limits.

He just wants to sit next to her on the plane. That isn't wrong. They're friends. He likes her. She's fun.

She is also not Lorne, who was taking the seat by John with an apologetic look.

"You want the window, Sir?"

John shakes his head. He should say hi before he accuses Lorne of not being Elizabeth. "Hey, Major, where's Eli- Doctor Weir?"

"Still talking to the IOA. She's missing this flight so they bumped me up from the later one." Lorne climbed past John and settled into the seat that was supposed to be Elizabeth's. "Sorry, Sir."

Not Lorne's fault. Be nice to him.

"When's the later flight?"

"Twenty-two hundred, Sir. Nasty layover in Atlanta. Five hours in the middle of the night. Too bad Doctor Weir's going to get stuck with it now." Lorne looks honestly apologetic. He likes Elizabeth.

John _likes_ Elizabeth. Lorne has it easy.

Five hours in Atlanta was long enough to find a bench, where she'd fall asleep in his lap because she would be exhausted and overworked like always. They'd get coffee at oh-five-hundred when the Starbucks finally opened and be so tired that she'd giggle. He loves that. For all her professionalism, Doctor Weir who spoke five languages, can still giggle.

"Who else is on the later flight?"

Lorne smirks but is too polite to do much more than that. "The rest of my team, Doctor Zelenka, Doctor Parrish, Banks…"

He could switch with Banks. She'd be nice about it. John is standing before he'd even finished the thought. "I, uh, forgot my--"

"You want to make sure Doctor Weir doesn't have any trouble in customs. She should have a senior office with her."

Lorne's smart. He is a way better liar than John.

"That. Yes, I, uh, well, I'm a senior officer."

"Seems logical, Sir."

"Thank you. Thanks, really, I--" John grabs his bag from the overhead compartment, drops it twice and picks it up. The flight attendant gives him a look but John flashed him his best, 'Hey, I'm cute and in the military' smile and the man lets him by.

Banks and the rest of Lorne's team were waiting in the same bar John had been in until they boarded. John shoves his ticket at the technician. "I uh, I need to be on the second flight."

"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir." Banks grabs the ticket and smirks at Zelenka, who is obvious jealous.

Tickets swapped around, John drops his bag at his feet and smiles as he orders a beer. Elizabeth would arrive eventually and he has, well, he has things he intends to do on their fourteen hour flight, plus that nasty, terrible layover.  


* * *

 **Inferno**

"Hey."

John leans in her doorway, patient and smug because he's just saved yet another planet from destruction and returned unscathed.

Rodney says "Hey" meaning "don't touch that Ancient device." or "Hey, I want the last apple." With Carson it's, "Hey, Elizabeth, you haven't slept again," or "Hey, good morning." There's no swagger. No "look at me, I'm invincible." like a certain member of the Air Force. Teyla's too polite for the short form and nearly always says hello instead.

He's still standing there, smiling that half-smile because he flew an ancient ship out of an exploding volcano. Yes, it's worth every ounce of pride behind that smirk. It's not an easy thing to do, and John has a knack for making the extraordinary difficult look easy.

And he's alive.

Elizabeth can't tell him what it does to her stomach when he's in danger. She can't because it's entirely not appropriate and she shouldn't feel that way about him. Yet she does, every damn him he leaves the city and puts himself in danger to save a world.

What can she say? She can't jump out of her chair, run to his arms and kiss him until her lips start to go numb. She can't tell him how much she adores that he always comes back, and how terrified she is that someday, he won't.

She keeps her eyes down, pretending she's finishing her report even though she's had that report open for the last hour and she keeps reading the same sentence over and over about flight protocols. She can't expect him to be her saviour. Even though he is, more often than not, the person who saves her.

Does he know? Is she that transparent? When she finally looks up, he's still there, endlessly patient.

"Hey." Does he know when she says it, it's "John, I love you, even your scruffy hair."

Out loud she says, "You're a little late."

"I brought you a ship." He leaves the door and heads for the corner of her desk that's his. "That should make up for you having to rewrite the mission schedule."

"It's an old ship."

"It has character." John picks up one of her pieces of art. He has a real fondness for the little dancing lion from Sierra Leone. "And it might just save our city."

"Perhaps." Elizabeth looks up at him, loosing herself in his eyes. She knows he'll save them. He always does.

Even if he's late.  


* * *

 **Athosian Parties**

He's on rotation. It's his turn to fly the jumper with the scientists back from M42-216. John knows this, and normally he wouldn't mind. He likes flying, it's just, well, Elizabeth's in a dress. Not just any dress, but a figure hugging, semitransparent, shades of green dress that Teyla found for her on the last trading mission.

And yeah, sure he shouldn't really know, but Teyla told him about it, and then he saw it in the wrapping and now he has to see it on. He'd take a glimpse of Elizabeth crossing the control room, but….if he can have Elizabeth wearing this dress at the Athosian party, then that's what he wants.

He might want a little more than that. Elizabeth in his arms wearing that dress might work, if he's allowed requests. They have slow dancing at Athosian parties. He's done it before, never with Elizabeth, which tonight is the biggest crime of the Pegasus galaxy.

He'd have to buck rotation. That means giving up his Saturday and his Sunday off. It means flying the geological survey, the botanical exploration of M33-981, and, most horrifically, the insect finding mission on the desert planet. He hates sand and bugs, bugs more since that thing where he turned into one.

But he has to see this dress.

It'll be worth bugs.

Elizabeth would be worth anything.

John strolls up to the flight board, nonchalant. Nothing's going on. He's just going to a party. It's easy, calm, hell, it's boring. He comms Lieutenant Brydden.

"Hey, how'd you feel about Saturday off?"

"You headed to the party, Sir?"

There it is, that pause that either means "Great, Saturday off!" or "He wants in Doctor Weir's knickers." Hard to tell with Brydden's funny British accent. Would he say knickers? The word's more fun than panties, but John's not picky. Whatever Elizabeth wears under her dress, he's pretty damn sure he'd like to see it. Taking it off would be perfect, but he tries to hold his fantasies back. _Tries_.

"Yeah, I think I am."

"Good for you, Sir. I'll make sure I collect the scientists on time."

"You do that, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir."

Easy. No worries. Now he just needs to change clothes. He doesn't have anything like that dress, but he has that button-up shirt that Teyla and Ronon both agreed made him look nice. Well, Ronon said hot, but he just likes to mess with him.

He'd like to be hot. He'd like _Elizabeth_ to notice he's hot, because she is.

When he's dressed and down in the 'gate room, trying to look innocent as he scans the crowd over and over for green, John finally gets a glimpse of her legs behind the floaty Pegasus silk.

Yeah, that's worth bugs, and sand…and wow. She is hot.

John wonders what colour her panties- knickers- underwear might up until she smiles. Elizabeth smiles at him, then, like always, he can't think at all.  


* * *

 **Supernatural**

"It's a ghost story. Don't you like ghost stories?" John watches her patiently and Elizabeth loves and hates him for making it so easy.

"Ghost stories give me nightmares." It's a little confession, and while Rodney scoffs, John looks sympathetic.

"I hope the Matriarch's story wasn't too scary for you."

No, no, the spirits of hundreds of Wraith victims walking the land in the dark, looking for revenge wouldn't scare anyone. Especially not Elizabeth. She's too smart for that. She has a PhD. She's a little old to be afraid of the dark. It's just, well, the path to their puddlejumper is a lot windier in the dark than it was in the light. She has a flashlight, so does everyone else, but the beams don't go that far in the mist, and…well, she can't put her finger on it, but M61-626 is creepy. The grey moss on the trees hangs down heavy, there aren't any avian life forms and the giant spiders that eat the other insects have a lot of webs.

She hates spiders. Not as much as she irrationally hates ghosts, and even though she's an adult, in charge of a city in another galaxy. She can't stop the shiver that creeps down her spine when something sighs in the distance. John touches her shoulder, keeping her safe. Her flashlight gets brighter the moment he touches her.

Is she that far gone? Is how much she wants John filling her stomach with little dancing butterflies, or is it the whispering of the ghosts in the trees?

Ronon and Teyla end up ahead with Rodney who's walking really quickly. Something about the movie in the mess hall tonight. He doesn't want to be late. _Army of Darkness_ sounds like a scary movie, so Elizabeth will be skipping that one.

Unless John asks her to go.

Then she might.

Maybe.

"Dammit." Her flashlight dims and when she tries to check it, her flashlight slips from her hand. The mist is thick and it must have gotten slippery. She's usually not clumsy, but the flashlight's on the path and she's staring down at it instead of looking up when the ghost- it has to be a ghost, appears in front of her.

Elizabeth gasps, jumping back from the faintly glowing image.

"I'm not Wraith." Will that save her? She's too short to be a wraith, isn't she?

"Of course not." John says, stepping into the light of her flashlight. His own in the mist made him into her ghost. "You okay?"

Her heart's hammering and her mouth is barely working. "Fine."

"You're white."

"It's the lighting."

"I scared you." John's face falls, like Sedgewick when she knows she's been naughty. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

Whenever the first syllable of her name vanishes on his tongue, she contemplates jumping him. Control room or not.

"When did you get in front of me? I thought you were-"

"Rodney wanted to hurry back."

"Right."

"I said we'd wait for the jumper to come back."

Elizabeth takes her flashlight from John and stares at him in surprise. "We will?"

"He's in a hurry. It'll make him happy. It'll be about an hour before Atlantis sends another jumper. That clearing where we landed was pretty."

It was pretty in daylight, but she can't say that.

"I'll try to keep you from getting bored." John falls into step beside her, and her heart starts to race again. This is a whole different kind of fear. This one makes her warm instead of cold.

"I'll hold you to it."

John pauses, mere centimetres from her face. He's so close she could kiss him, if she wanted to.  
"Good."  


* * *

 **Alien Influence**

"You're free to go." Carson announces cheerfully. "No lasting affects. Stay away from the punch next time."

John rubs the back of his head sheepishly. He remembers the punch, sort of. He knows he had a big glass full, and that he went with Elizabeth to go see the temple, because she was going, not because he cares much about old temples. He couldn't really have predicted that the punch was a catalyst for inhabitation by the non-corporeal gods of M25-744. Why would gods want him anyway? He has scruffy hair and his feet turn in a little.

He almost agrees with the goddess of life's decision to take Elizabeth as a host. If he could have a host, he'd pick Elizabeth. Of course, he might think that because he got to see her naked. That he remembers. Everything after that is a little blurry. They must have been changing clothes. They didn't, they wouldn't, they, well, they know better than to--

He's just not going to entertain that line of thought. John will think about football. The draft is coming up and the Jets might just be good if they--

He saw Elizabeth naked. John clearly remembers the curve of her spine.

Dammit.

He retreats to his quarters, grabs his clubs and heads out to play golf. Lots of golf.

One week later, he's been playing a lot of golf. Elizabeth thinks golf is a waste of time, and stays away.

Two weeks later, John can look at her without picturing her breasts through her tight red t-shirt. He misses them. They're perfect.

In April, he watches the draft, but a few of the women in the commercials remind him of Elizabeth, and she's prettier. It ruins the beer ad Ronon thinks is funny because he can't stop thinking about the little pattern of freckles on her shoulder. Like a constellation. He wants to name it, but he needs to see it again. Preferably several times.

In May, he's decided that until he gets to see her naked again, he's calling the constellation on her shoulder Lizzieopeia, because she'd laugh. She might even hit him, but she'll have to be naked with him to know, and he can handle getting hit by that point.

John's made the herculean effort to put Lizzieopeia out of his mind by June. He does his job, he taunts Rodney, he lets Telya and Ronon beat him up, and he doesn't think about his boss naked for ninety percent of the day.

It's about fifty. That's the best he can do; he is a guy.

Bounding up the steps to the jumper bay is half the fun of getting there, and he has a good rhythm when Carson interrupts him.

"John, I hate to bother you, could you come down to the infirmary?"

"Is it urgent, Carson? I have a survey…" He stops protesting. Carson gets a hard enough time from everyone. "I'll have Norris take it."

Norris has been dying for more flight time. Newbies are so eager.

John heads down the stairs with less bound than he had going up. Down isn't usually as exciting. Down the stairs after a mission means paperwork, and unless Elizabeth is there, he doesn't like paperwork much.

Someone is in a little side room of the infirmary, she's pulling her shirt down over her head. John stares. He knows he shouldn't, but Lizzieopeia's staring back at him. He only sees it for a second but it's _exactly_ how he remembered it.

It's perfect, just like Elizabeth, who smiles at him when she has her shirt back on. She has no idea what he saw, but she looks sad, even startled.

"Hey."

"Hi John."

Elizabeth makes his name sound so special, even though he hears it a few times a day. She says it best. He doesn't get a chance to ask what's going on because Carson shows up. He has a chart and he looks apologetic.

The knot in John's stomach that goes to red alert when things aren't good twists up and gets ready to set off the alarm.

'The two of you have a bit of a situation."

John smiles. "We ate the cake that makes us grow?"

"I think it was something you drank."

"I feel fine." John waits for Elizabeth to agree, but she doesn't. She rubs her forehead. She's been doing that a lot.

"Not recently. About ten weeks ago, on M25-744."

"The punch."

Elizabeth says nothing, but she's definitely having trouble looking at him.

"Was there some kind of pathogen in the punch?" John tunes out the first part of Carson's answer.

Elizabeth's playing with the hem of her shirt. She's fidgeting. She never fidgets unless something is…

"I had Elizabeth take another look at the translation. What we thought was 'goddess of life' was 'goddess who makes life' there's a subtle difference. Of course, that difference makes her consort, which is the part you played, that much more complicated."

"So Elizabeth and I made some life." John shrugs. They planted plants, or blessed some sheep. It's not a big deal. Fertility rites happen all the time in a galaxy that really needs to keep their population up.

"That's exactly it, John." Carson almost sounds relieved. "I'll leave the two of you to talk about it."

Why does he need to talk to Elizabeth about plants? Why is Carson fleeing the room? John looks at Elizabeth, confused. Her fingers are white knuckled on the edge of her shirt now. That's not like her.

"I don't-"

Elizabeth shuts her eyes, and when she opens them there are tears in the corners. "John, I, I mean, you and I…"

John's built in alarm starts to shriek red alert. Tonguetied Elizabeth is bad. It's really bad.

"You okay?"

She shakes her head. "No."

Trapped in a room, with his boss about to cry, John still can't drag his mind of Lizzieopeia. He wants to trace it with his fingers and…

She is crying. Elizabeth's making a good show of not, but he was married. He knows what "I'm not going to cry" looks like and it's there.

Did he do something? Was he a bad consort? He doesn't remember anything other than Lizzieopeia, and John thought Elizabeth remembered less than that, she hasn't been weird around him like he has been weird, well, obsessed is a better word. She's been kind of nice, to everyone, even Rodney.

"Can I…?" There has to be something he can do, a way to fix this.

Elizabeth takes a step, and he closes the distance and hugs her. It's like the time he came back, except this time he's the one with his arms tight around her.

He's an idiot. He's been thinking about sheep and freckles when he should have been.

They made life.

Elizabeth's tears are wet against his neck; he hugs her tighter.

"You're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

When she hugs back, holding him like he's the last man in the universe, he knows Elizabeth believes him. John's not sure if he believes, but if she does, that's a place to start.

Someday, he's going to have to tell their kid about Lizzieopeia.  



End file.
